


Sex Ed

by Verbrennung



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, First Time, Mika is not a virgin, Virgin!Daishou, this is horny but also kind of sweet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbrennung/pseuds/Verbrennung
Summary: He’s pulled out of his observation by the sweet call of his name, and when he lifts his head to look, she’s already sitting on her bed. Her knees are pressed together, and looking there leads to him looking at her thighs, visible with the short skirt she’s wearing. She looks so cute, and her small hands are clutching the bed sheets beneath her.His gut clenches, and twists in a very familiar feeling.“Come sit,” she says, a question without inflection, as she pats the space beside her.Painfully nervous but unable to refuse he does as he’s told, settling next to her with an almost respectable distance between them. He clasps his hands between his knees just to have something to do with them, and can’t bring himself to look at her.
Relationships: Daishou Suguru/Yamaka Mika
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Sex Ed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yahabooty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yahabooty/gifts).



> a commission by [omer](https://twitter.com/yahabooty) who wanted first time daimika ft. virgin!daishou. hope you enjoy!!

It should be all kinds of shameful. A few months ago he would have never believed that he’d become like this.

Daishou finds himself awestruck every time she turns, long brown hair catching the light, and settles her gaze on _him._ Everytime she hurries down the hallway at school calling _his_ name.

He’s not an idiot. He knows there’s guys cooler than him, more handsome. They don’t have a shitty personality like him, and if they do a sport they’re more skilled than him and yet still manage to devote less time to it, keeping their weekends free for all the dates a girl like her could dream of.

He’s far, _far_ from the perfect boyfriend (he already lost her once after all), but for some reason Yamaka Mika has chosen _him._

She’s just so pretty, is the issue. Some guys don’t like her lipgloss or how much mascara she wears - personally, he thinks she’d be cute with or without. It’s not really his place to comment on how much makeup a girl wears. That’s her style and she rocks it.

He’s a complete mess all through Nationals, when she (for some baffling reason) decides to humour him and accompany him to all the games. What’s more, she’s not just _playing_ at being interested - she asks questions and cheers for teams and gets excited at plays. It’s as if the unspoken disconnect that was there between them before is gone. When she resented him for spending all his time practicing, and he didn’t quite believe she really, truly liked him.

It’s different now - especially after that little _slip_ of letting his shitty side out around her. She accepted him anyway, knew about it already even, and didn’t care. He’s _so_ not worthy.

Still, Daishou does his best from that moment: taking her on dates; texting back quickly; initiating conversations; putting her first. Sweetness doesn’t necessarily come _naturally_ to him, but it’s easier when it’s with her. She makes it all so easy.

Saturday evening, and he’s walking her home like a good boyfriend does after it gets dark. The nights are still cool, but the transition to Spring is in the air - with it will come graduation, and university for the both of them. Daishou isn’t sure what will happen then, and has gotten pretty good at banishing the thought whenever it arises.

There’s a small, soft hand willingly captured in his own, and he squeezes a little as they head down the street. Their conversation petered off a few moments ago, but the silence now between them is companionable; comfortable.

Always thinking, always a little stressed about _how_ he’s doing, Daishou risks a glance to the side. Mika’s head is bowed but she squeezes his hand back. On her other side her hand lifts up, and Daishou thinks she must tucking her long hair behind her ear in that cute way she always does.

He’s so impossibly infatuated with her and he knows it’s obvious. 

It _should_ be all kinds of shameful to be so completely at another person’s mercy, but when she’s around he just can’t bring himself to care.

They reach the tall metal gate outside of her house. Daishou goes to withdraw his hand but she holds fast, head still bowed.

“Mika-chan?” he asks, suddenly awash with the fear that he’s done something wrong and she’s been upset with him all this time. What should he do--?

“Suguru,” she says, and the tone of her voice washes all his manic thoughts away. Not mad. If anything, she sounds… meek? Nervous, even.

“What’s up?” he asks, hesitating for a second before stroking the side of her hand, still entwined with his, with his thumb.

Her feet shift a little on the sidewalk, the only sound in the quiet evening. She re-tucks her hair behind her ear and then looks up to meet his gaze. 

“My parents aren’t home,” is all she has to say to have Daishou’s face erupt into violent pink heat, to have his heartbeat explode into a quick and forceful staccato. “Do you want to come inside?”

There’s only one thing this could be leading to.

Mortifyingly, his palm begins to sweat against hers.

Mika’s trying her best to hold her gaze steady, but she’s embarrassed at asking something so brazen, and her eyes dart to the side at random intervals of time as he stares at her, dumbfounded.

There’s also only one answer.

“Sure,” he says, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

She smiles, a shaky little thing, and then mercifully extracts her hand from his grip to open the gate. As she continues up to the house proper Daishou pauses to shut the gate behind him, taking a second once he has his back turned to gather himself and take a breath.

Her parents aren’t home. She invited him in. He’s finally, _finally_ going to--

The sound of the door opening behind him brings him back, and he turns to see her illuminated in the doorway. Once he’s facing her she smiles, and toes her shoes off neatly. 

Daishou hurries up the path as quick as he can without making it _look_ like he’s hurrying. He shuts the door behind himself and then does the same with his own shoes. As he nudges them beside hers, he gets caught up in a fantasy where this is _their_ house, that they live together and maybe they’re even _married_ and - would they ever have kids?

“Do you want a drink or anything?” she asks, stood in the hall with her socked feet pointing ever so slightly inwards as she wrings her hands in front of herself. She’s so _cute._ He wants to kiss her.

“I’m good,” he says, barely feeling his mouth move at all.

“Okay.” She’s done this before - maybe not bring a boy _home_ , but she’s done _that_ he knows, because she told him so - so it’s nice to see that she’s still as abashed as he is. “Well, um. Do you want to see my room?”

Yes. Yes, he really does. He’s seen snatches, in cute selfies or random pictures she’s sent to him over the course of their relationship, but he’s always wondered what the full space is like. Has daydreamed endlessly about what it would be like to walk inside, to be in there _with her._

He follows her up the stairs, both of them taking the steps as quietly as possible even though it’s clear they’re home alone. There’s a dreadful mix of nerves and excitement churning in his gut, and he’s _so fucking game for this_ but at the same time wishes he could just turn tail and run and save this for a later day - an abstract time that he doesn’t actually have to live _right now_. 

Ahead of him, Mika breaches the landing and opens up a non-descript door, flicking the light on.

Daishou steps across the threshold and takes it all in.

The walls are white but the light is warmer than usual, softening the pristine colour and making it cosier. Her bed is in the corner, just a single, with a simple floral cover. There are no stuffed toys atop it but there is a selection on a shelf above, and Daishou’s heart soars to an embarrassing height when he remembers a couple from past dates, winning them for her with a ridiculous amount of resolve from crane games. Her desk sits to his right, her laptop closed on its surface, along with a number of trinkets. On the top shelf are two bejewelled frames: inside one is a photograph of her and her parents, he thinks; the second is of _him._ It’s a candid of him in his volleyball uniform - taken, he assumes, during that ill-fated Tokyo qualifier. 

Above that there’s a corkboard mounted to the wall. There’s an impressive amount of purikura photo strips tacked to the surface - mostly her and a mixed multitude of girlfriends, pulling various cutesy poses or wearing matching outfits. He sees himself in a few of them, immediately cringing at how ridiculous he looks under the beautifying filter, and of how many shots there are of him just staring at her instead of posing.

“Suguru.”

He’s pulled out of his observation by the sweet call of his name, and when he lifts his head to look, she’s already sitting on her bed. Her knees are pressed together, and looking there leads to him looking at her thighs, visible with the short skirt she’s wearing. She looks so cute, and her small hands are clutching the bed sheets beneath her.

His gut clenches, and twists in a very familiar feeling.

“Come sit,” she says, a question without inflection, as she pats the space beside her.

Painfully nervous but unable to refuse he does as he’s told, settling next to her with an almost respectable distance between them. He clasps his hands between his knees just to have something to do with them, and can’t bring himself to look at her.

“Suguru,” she says, and he’s unable to refuse her call, turning and feeling unworthy all over again. She smiles, cocking her head to the side a fraction so her hair spills down off her shoulder. “Is this okay?”

It’s sweet of her to ask. But still-- Daishou’s the guy here. He should be making sure _she’s_ alright. 

On an average day he’s not at all bothered by the fact that Mika is more experienced than him. If Nohebi Academy is anything to go by, she’s not a rare case. If anything, it’s Daishou that’s the late bloomer. He doesn’t care that she’s not a virgin - he’s not even jealous of her ex-boyfriend (well, no more than the usual amount). He just… doesn’t want to be a disappointment. That’s where the hangup comes from, because Daishou Suguru has only ever wanted to be _good enough._

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he reassures her, only partly a necessary lie.

“Okay,” is her response, and then she’s leaning towards him, planting a hand on his thigh to support herself.

He stares at it for a second, caught by the contact, before raising his eyes to her face once more. They’ve kissed before - a _lot_ actually, and he thinks he’s pretty decent at it - but he still gets nervous every time. Still, those nerves are manageable now so he closes the distance himself in the way she likes, their lips meeting with a soft sound.

He’s more than used to the smear of Mika’s lipgloss against his lips by now; likes the artificial cherry taste when it hits his tongue. Daishou slides his hand up her neck so his fingers can tangle in the smooth, shiny locks behind her ear and she sighs. He takes advantage, brushing his tongue against hers, the slightest tease that gets her into it every time. 

He’s spent a lot of time figuring out what she likes and exploits it mercilessly.

It earns a small sound, a cute hitch of breath and then she’s sinking into the kiss, lending more of her weight onto Daishou who is more than happy to bear it, if it’s her. The tips of her acrylic nails press ever so slightly into his thigh through his trousers, and it’s a minor thing that joins with a million other little details to paint an entire erotic image of her. 

It’s just so hard to believe that it’s him she’s chosen.

But she has and it’s real - as real as the mewl she lets out when he risks closing her bottom lip between his teeth, less of a nip and more of a slight show of pressure.

“Suguru--” she says whilst she’s pulling away, and then before Daishou knows it she’s lifting herself up and twisting towards him, and then he’s sitting in Mika-chan’s bedroom on Mika-chan’s bed with Mika-chan in his lap, and she’s leaning forward for another kiss like she can’t get enough.

This is a lot, and in this position he knows it’s inevitable that she’ll feel his excitement sooner or later. But she’s the one who invited him here; the one who’s in control, so he figures it’s fine to let go, maybe even to indulge. 

One of his hands is still in her hair, tangling the silky strands with his clumsy, rough-knuckled fingers, but he lets the other drop to the bare skin of her thigh. It’s warm, soft, and he can’t help but open his eyes to take a look - not for any particular reason, just because. He loses focus, attention zooming in on that sight, and before he knows it his hand is sliding up so that his fingertips can trace the lacy hem of the skirt she’s wearing. It’s cute, like everything else she wears. Soft, like the skin it brushes with every movement she makes. Delicate, like the way her eyelashes flutter when she’s embarrassed - and, apparently, when she’s turned on.

He knows this because she calls his name sweetly, and that’s when he realises they’ve stopped kissing altogether, their foreheads pressed together, and he gets a perfect view of her doing exactly that. There’s something hot and hazy about her eyes, something that matches the blush high on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says, a little flustered at what he reads as a reprimand for being distracted, but she just smiles, hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “It’s okay,” she repeats, eyes steady on his as she moves one of her hands to rest atop Daishou’s, using the hold to urge it higher, slipping under the soft, light fabric of her skirt.

The top of her thigh feels even warmer, and he doesn’t stop the exploration when she pulls her hand away, happy that her encouragement has been taken. He’s still meeting her gaze, equal parts embarrassed and awed when his fingers hit a different strip of lace, and what can only be the smooth silk of her underwear above that, wrapping around her hip just below the waistband of her skirt.

For a second he thinks he should stop, but she smiles and he remembers that she’s allowing - encouraging - this. Emboldened, he lets his fingers wander, following the strip of fabric round to the back. Tremulous fingers travel over the silk covering her behind until they reach lace again, which he follows inward for a moment before he gives in to the urge to cup her ass, just to feel.

She’s not particularly curvacious, but everything about her is soft and warm. It feels incredible, and Daishou needs no encouragement to bring his other hand up to cup the opposite cheek, too. She gasps and blushes, and then she’s surging to kiss him again, and he’s more than happy to comply with the single-minded demand.

Her nails feel amazing scraping lightly through his hair, sweeping across the skin behind his ears and on the back of his neck. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s him or her that initiates it but suddenly he’s falling back onto the soft floral sheets and she’s following him, cupping his face as their kiss gets messier, breaths hotter, her long hair falling in a curtain around him.

He pulls her, and she might even push too, but then there’s heated pressure on his groin and he pulls back with a groan, barely believing that even just this could feel so good.

“Fuck, Mika,” he breathes, not at all mindful of the fact he’s cussing in front of her. He’s rewarded with another insistent roll of her hips, and it’s good, but he needs _more--_ needs _her_ , so rolls them over.

She looks beautiful, sprawled on her bedsheets under him, hair tangled and splayed everywhere.

“Let me--” he begins, mouth feeling tremulous. “Can I see?” he asks, voice giving away all he’s feeling. 

There’s a blush on Mika’s cheeks, part desire and part embarrassment, but then she nods. He gets to work quickly, fingers fumbling as he reaches for the dainty buttons holding her blouse together. 

He’s finally undressing a girl, but not just _any_ girl-- he’s undressing _Mika._

It’s with no short amount of awe that he finally peels the fabric aside, and the first thing he sees is the soft mint of her bra. Then he notices the way her chest heaves, the small curves of her breasts moving with her breaths; the way her stomach quivers with it, too.

It’s the soft, pale skin of her stomach that his hands touch first, brushing upwards and causing her breathing to stutter as she jolts under the initial touch. She’s so small, so delicate; it almost feels like he could hurt her if he’s not too careful, but he knows intrinsically that she’s stronger than she looks, in no way a pushover. She can put him in his place if she needs to (and does), and that’s one of the many reasons why he loves her.

Up, up, and up his hands go - reaching her chest is an inevitability. He glances up at her face when he touches her bra just to check she’s fine, but that dark, molten look in her eyes is even more intense now, and she’s rearing up into his touch in telltale permission, encouragement. 

He squeezes the mounds under his hands and she moans, struggling under him at the feeling, and he falls deeper in love. The fabric of her bra is soft under his palms, but can’t hold a candle to the flesh under his fingertips. He plays for a moment, marvelling in the feeling and committing the sight to memory, before he’s smoothing his arms up and around to urge her to lose her blouse completely.

She lifts up onto her elbows to help him, and he’s so, so gentle with her as he removes the fabric. Next come the straps of her bra, which he pulls down from the slope of her shoulders slowly, following with tender kisses. Reaching under her feels natural with the way she works with him, and he thankfully unhooks her bra clasps on the first try, tossing the garment behind him without a care.

Bare to him from the waist up, she’s more vulnerable in front of him than anyone ever has been. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, because she is - and not just because she’s letting him see her tits. She’s worthy of worship, which is exactly what he does, lowering his face to indulge in kisses, licking over the mounds of flesh, tongue curling around her peaked nipples, unable to resist sucking on them a little once he’s there, making her gasp and clutch his head in her small hands.

He could do it all day, and vows to do so one day if she’ll let him. Right now, though, there’s so much more of her to explore.

Mika’s neck smells softly sweet, the familiar scent of her favourite perfume evident when he buries his nose there, his hands back on her thighs and gently urging them apart before sliding higher.

“I love you,” he breathes into the flesh below her ear, and she moans, thighs quivering under the glide of his rough palms. “And I’m going to make you come,” he tells her, earning nails digging into his biceps for the trouble. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” It’s the least he can do, when she’s giving him all of this.

With his knees planted between her parted thighs, her underwear can only come down so far. They’re stretched taut in the space between her legs but they at least leave enough space for his hand to brush the hottest, most precious part of her. Soft curls meet his fingertips first, and he traces the curve of puffed flesh protecting her core with two fingers - curious, excited.

When he breaches the swollen folds he’s taken aback by the _heat_ of her, not to mention the slick wet that betrays her excitement. His fingers skate the slick flesh inside, nipping her earlobe and then the hinge of her jaw with blunt teeth.

“You’ll have to tell me what you like,” he says, still keenly aware of his inexperience but less intimidated by it now in the knowledge of their shared arousal.

She nods against him, struggling to widen her thighs further while she’s still trapped by her underwear. Her skirt has ridden up high at her waist, barely an obstruction as she lowers her hand to brush his. Daishou has watched porn, and googled enough about sex to know that it’s her clit she guides him to, and it’s clumsy and a little messy as she manipulates his finger to press against it.

“Like this,” she gasps, urging him to apply a little more pressure than he probably would himself. He catches on and retakes the lead, and soon she abandons her guidance to grasp his shoulder, which he assumes means he’s doing a good enough job.

“Suguru--” she gasps. “Thumb, now,” she instructs between her hitched breasts. “It aches, need them inside--”

Fuck, she’s so erotic when she’s chasing her own pleasure. None of his secret fantasies can hold a candle to the reality of it, and he does as he's bid, curiously sliding one finger in. They both groan, her at finally having something inside, him at the foreign feeling - soft, wet heat, the feeling of her inner flesh unlike anything he could have imagined.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he tells her, mouth forming the words messily against her breast, finger exploring the space inside of her, already soaked, so wet that it’s pretty easy sliding a second finger in a little while later. One day he’ll press his mouth to her, let his tongue explore where his fingers are curiously probing, taste the viscous evidence of her excitement. He’s going to spend as long as he’s allowed making her feel _amazing_.

She adjusts to the intrusion, and soon enough she’s moving with the twists and plunges of his fingers, letting out mewls every time he touches somewhere inside of her that feels good.

“Another,” she tells him. The third is a little harder to get in as he meets more resistance, but she relaxes and yields to him soon enough, her growing arousal making it easier. As he continues to move his hand, finding the motions that make her feel good she gets _wetter_ and it drips out of her, down his fingers and his palm and he _needs_ to be inside of her.

He pulls out, fingers smearing against her thigh as he grips it, rearing up a little to look her in the face. 

“I need to be-- can I--?” he can’t find the words but it’s impossible to not catch his meaning. She nods, and then points in the vague direction of under her bed. 

It’s uncomfortable to move, as hard as he is in his pants, but he finds an inconspicuous box under her bed that (not so surprisingly) holds condoms. The box is new, and he marvels at the fact she might have been planning for this. Pulling out a packet, Daishou catches sight of a bottle of lube and figures he’ll probably need that too, if it’s there. He turns back to her to see that she’s ridden herself of the confines of her last pieces of clothing, leaving her completely naked to him.

She’s glowing, skin patched red from blushing arousal and enthusiastic bites and sucks alike, absolutely beautiful. All it takes is a look from her to have him strip himself to match, practically tripping over his own feet as he fights to get his clothes off quick without getting tangled.

Now,, Daishou has been doing sports for his entire school career, so he’s used to being naked in front of other guys… but a girl is a little different. Not for the first time, he’s stricken with fear that his body isn’t acceptable - that he’s too skinny, or too pale, or that his dick isn’t big enough. He’s starting to curl in on himself as his insecurities begin to take over from his arousal, but then she smiles at him.

“I love you, Suguru,” is all she says, and miraculously it’s enough to chase his insecurities away, at least for now. She always knows what to do and say - now that they've long since cleared up their differences - and his cheeks heat even more despite the fact he’s been sporting the warmth of a blush since they started kissing.

She leans back against her pillows, parts her thighs once more and reaches out to him. There’s no other choice but to obey her request, going to her and adjusting their position so her thighs are over his. She’s completely open to him now, even more visible than before, but far from vulnerable. She’s not self-conscious here with him; there’s power in this for her. 

She’s an absolute fucking marvel to him.

The condom gets rolled on with only a few fumbles, with probably too much lube smothered over him after that but he wants to be careful. He’s still so fucking hard, and even doing that much is painful for him, never mind when he holds himself by the base to help his entrance into her.

She gasps and huffs so he goes slow, knowing this is a different kind of stretch for her.

But fuck, it’s so hard to rein himself in at the pressure surrounding him on all sides. His dick is straining, and it feels like burning to be inside of her like this. Once he’s fully inside he has to stop, and he can tell she’s concerned by the way he’s gritting his teeth but it’s taking all of his effort not to blow his load right then and there. He has pride, and he’s going to make this last longer than a minute.

“Give me a second,” he tells her, the words strangled by the pressure to _hold back._

A hand strokes his hair and he stills, realising just how much tension has seized his frame, joint by joint. The gesture is so sweet, so tender, that it startles him into looking up at her face.

Her long, long eyelashes fluttering. There’s a blush high on her cheeks and her mouth is open enough that he can see the pearly whites of her two front teeth - they’re a little oversized maybe, and she hates them and calls them goofy, but he thinks they’re adorable.

“You feel really good, Suguru,” she tells him, and from this close he can see the tremble of her mouth, which he takes as proof that she’s telling the truth and not just placating him. “It’s only the first time. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

She’s still petting him but it’s far from condescending. It’s a comfort, plain and simple, and Daishou lets his worry get swallowed up by the overwhelming affection he feels whenever he realises that in reality, she’s the one taking care of him. A free pass for whatever happens while also letting him know there'll be more after this, that he can get better. Can make it better.

“It feels good, right?” she follows up with, a little smile at her lips now.

“Really good,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss her on the tip of her nose. It tears a groan from each of them when the action causes him to move a little inside of her.

It’s impossible to hold back after all that. Carefully - oh so carefully, and only after a short nod from Mika - Daishou plants his hands more securely in the sheets either side of her head, and pulls almost all the way out.

Hot, velvety flesh drags against him as he does so. And shit, it’s like she’s desperate to keep him _inside_ and he’s letting out a whimper when he stops and slowly, oh so slowly, pushes back in.

Her face scrunches up a little - Daishou isn’t sure whether it’s pleasure or slight pain, or a mix of both. And maybe it makes him a terrible person, but seeing her expression like that, hair fanned out around her, is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

Even through her hitched noises and his own groan, he can _hear_ himself fucking into her. He hadn’t expected it, and he can feel the heat of his blush spread down to his neck and likely beyond, sure that it’s obvious against his pale skin.

“You feel amazing,” he forces out, but it’s said with the least amount of poise possible, the words strained as he tries to weather the intense pleasure crashing through him.

Nails dig into his bicep, the back of his neck. Mika lets out a tremulous whine as he settles deep within her once more, savouring it for just a second before he’s pulling back, continuing to move and starting a stilted rhythm.

He’s not really sure how quick he should move, and the thrusts are a new motion his body isn’t used to. He focuses on settling into that rather than the reality of what he’s doing - it serves the dual purpose of helping him to adjust to the brand new act of sex and hold on a little longer than he might have otherwise.

“Suguru,” Mika breathes, and Daishou groans at the feeling of nails raking down the length of his spine. “A little faster, please--”

And who is he to refuse? He’d do anything for her, and in this case it’s something he’s desperate for, too. It feels a little different now, a little easier, as if they’ve both adjusted to the feeling.

Sweat beads at his hairline. He feels a drop slide down his temple, over his cheek and then cling to the line of his jaw. His teeth are clenched against the sensations assaulting him, the _pleasure_ that only climbs higher and higher. He’s close, he knows. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before, this is going to be so much better--

“I love you,” Mika repeats in a whisper as she cups his burning cheek with her small hand. The words are quiet but they still cut through all other sound, enough to make Daishou open his eyes.

As soon as registers the tender expression on her face that’s it, it’s over. His orgasm slams into him with a force he hadn’t quite expected, forcing him to clench his eyes shut once more. It’s another new, strange feeling to come inside the condom, to feel the way the walls around him react to the instinctive jerk of his hips, but it’s still _incredible._

Gasping for breath he stills, and looks back down at his girlfriend. She’s watching him, trembling a little below him. She’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“I love you too,” he says, without any hint of the hesitation or bashfulness he often falls prey to when saying those words aloud.

She smiles, flashing those teeth she’s usually so insecure about as her nose scrunches up adorably, and he’s hopeless to do anything but return it.

They stay that way for a moment, before she pats his hip, giving a pointed look down between their bodies and wiggling a little.

“Oh-” he says, blushing a little, before taking the cue to carefully pull out of her. It’s not a pleasant experience for either of them, bodies sensitive now they’re not drunk on arousal.

There's a moment of silence, a little awkward until: “Now you’re not a virgin anymore!” Mika says with a laugh, though it’s not at all unkind.

Daishou’s cheeks erupt back into a fiery heat, albeit for very different reasons now. It's such a stark change of atmosphere that for a second it feels like whiplash, but he soon finds himself grateful for her ability to switch gears for him.

Glancing down at the condom he pulls a face, going about the process of removing it and then tying it in a knot with some disgust. He’s not sure what to do with it, so once it’s tied he kind of just… sets it on her bed, for now. Turning to look at Mika, a thought suddenly dawns on him.

“Um, did you--?”

She smiles and shrugs. “Not yet,” she says, but before he can fall into a pit of despair at his inadequacy, she reaches for his hand and tugs, encouraging him to crawl back over her. “It doesn’t always happen,” she says, pushing herself up to peck him on the lips. “But I’m going to show you how to right now.”

There’s still a lot to learn, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> \- mika gets her nut soon after don't worry  
> \- daishou gets a lot better at sex (and pleasuring his gf) with more practice  
> \- yes he does idealize her quite a bit but he's a teenage boy and she let him put his penis in her. i hope it wasn't uncomfy for anyone and that his feelings for her did come across as genuine because they are IN LOVE!  
> \- they have no idea what to do with the condom so daishou leaves mika's house with it in his pocket to dump on the way home (yes that _is_ disgusting)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/verbrennunq)


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